After Voldemort
by GimmeHarry
Summary: After Voldemort's death, Harry's health takes a turn for the worse. Will Harry assimilate into Wizard society after his NEWTs or will he isolate himself? This story follows Harry after he does the job everyone expects of him. Warning: Slash
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, or anything of JK Rowling's.

After Voldemort

1

On the morning of September 12, the one-month anniversary of Voldemort's defeat, everything appeared relatively normal at breakfast in the Great Hall at Hogwarts. Ron, with bandages over his left eye and ear, shoveled food into his mouth, while Hermione read a large green book, and Harry played with his eggs and sausage. Neville listened to Ginny and Taline, another Gryffindor sixth year, discuss the Ravenclaws new seeker, a tanned, blond fourth year, Evan Tribeyek

The school year had started a couple of weeks ago. Voldemort had been killed that summer, August 12th by Harry. Most Deatheaters had died or been captured before school started. Or at least enough to make it sensible to reopen Hogwarts despite the loss of life in the student body and staff. McGonagall was Headmistress. Her hair was now grey, and her back no longer straight. She looked defeated, even though she had participated in the victory.

Not much was known about Voldemort's death. A month had passed, but all the public knew for sure was that Harry had indeed killed Voldemort. His body had been retrieved. Tonks, Dean Thomas and Peter Pettigrew were the only people who had been present in that clearing in the forbidden forest where the battle between Harry Potter and Voldemort took place. The three of them, four including Voldemort were dead, when Arthur Weasley stumbled upon the unconscious Harry Potter that fated evening. Harry had yet to reveal any details about the final battle. Rita Skeeter had tried more than once to ask, to obtain an interview but had no results except a wicked look of contempt from Hermione.

Hermione and Ron had of course noticed Harry's absent-minded behavior, and his haggard look. His face was thin and pale. His cheekbones stuck out abnormally. His mop of hair fell over vacant green eyes. Since the start of the school year, Harry had kept to himself. When in class, he stayed close to Ron, Hermione and Neville, but outside of class, he drifted away from people. He was often absent from the Gryffindor Common Room. Hermione noticed he skipped meals using excuses of going to the library, and yet, often forgot about his homework and got late marks. She had even spoken to McGonagall about Harry's hermetic behavior, but the Headmistress said the symptoms were common among a number of students, a kind of post-traumatic stress syndrome. It would pass. Time would heal all wounds. Hermione was highly affronted with this news. The idea that she had to stand by and watch her friend suffer, and there was nothing she could do to help was maddening. She had taken to reading up, discreetly, about anything to do with psychological damage. She transfigured the books into common textbooks about history. The last thing Harry needed was to think his friends thought he was crazy. Which he wasn't, corrected Hermione to herself, he just needed a little help.

Of course, they all had nightmares. Hermione had watched Lavender be tortured. Ron replayed the gruesome death of Michael Corner over in his head at night, as he lay unable to help, trapped under the fallen stones from Hagrid's hut. Neville often found himself staring out the window, wondering if Lavender and Parvati would still be there if he hadn't abandoned them to follow Bellatrix and ultimately kill her. They'd all seen someone die that day. Despite this common theme among the older classmen, who had fought the Deatheaters, Hermione felt Harry's symptoms were not like everyone else. She stared at him surreptitiously over her textbook as he mashed his eggs through the grooves in his fork. Neville jolted her out of her daydream.

"Shouldn't we leave for Potions?" he said standing up and shouldering his bag. "We don't need to be late again." Hermione, Ron and Harry rose and followed Neville out of the Great Hall. Seamus, unfortunately, was still under intensive care at St. Mungo's. He was, after all, re-growing his spine.

Harry glided into the seat next to Neville. Ron and Hermione sat together since they had officially started dating. Harry unrolled a spare sheet of parchment, but his pretense at class participation ended there. During the entire lesson, he did not pick up his quill. At times, his body tensed, and then slackened again. Despite attempts at concentration, he drifted off into the back of his mind.

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That evening, Harry wandered down the dark hall on the third floor as the clock struck ten. He extinguished the torches as he passed, preferring darkness. The light gave him a headache. He barely slept anymore. Instead, he divided his nights between lying in bed, staring at his curtains, flipping through the photo album Hagrid had given him so long ago, or walking the hallways of Hogwarts.

Tonight, he stopped at a large window and watched the black trees sway on the edge of the Forbidden Forest. He stood still for a long time, undisturbed, not sleeping and not awake either. Finally, footsteps approached.

"Somebody's out of bed after hours," cooed a voice, pronouncing each syllable carefully, and slowly, a trait of Pansy Parkinson's posh Manchester accent.

"So it seems," replied the unmistakable drawl of Draco Malfoy.

"Oh Harry, it's you, your hair gave you away. Now, only prefects are allowed out of bed at this hour. I'm afraid we'll have to deduct points. Even the Wizard Savior should get his sleep," said Pansy as she placed a delicate hand on her hip and cocked her head.

Harry turned and looked at the two Slytherins with a tearstained face, and dead eyes. He didn't appear to recognize Pansy, or understand her reproof. He said nothing, and made no movement towards Gryffindor tower.

Draco almost gasped as he saw Harry's gaunt shadow of a body when he turned to face them. He looked monstrous. His eyes were sunken. His robes were askew. Until now, Draco hadn't noticed his thin frame, but Harry's collar bone seemed to almost pierce through his own flesh it was so defined and sharp. The rumors about Harry's mental health, the odd behavior in class, Draco had thought were embellished by Harry's fans, his pity posse, but now it seemed an understatement. Draco placed his hand on Pansy's arm and steered her away, leaving Harry's rake-like silhouette alone by the window.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, or anything of JK Rowling's. But I do like her work.

2

A week later, Draco found himself in close proximity with Harry again. They were serving detention together Thursday night because of a disastrous accident in Herbology that afternoon. They were now in the greenhouse pruning the remaining Snap Gardenia's, a dangerous and smelly business. Harry and Draco moved about the task in silence, at opposite ends of the table.

Suddenly, Harry dropped his clippers and grasped the edge of the table with both hands. Draco watched, intrigued as Harry's body trembled, and breathing increased rapidly. As quickly as the episode started, he stopped shaking, and put his palms flat on the table. Draco picked up the fallen clippers and looked down at Harry, who was short for a seventeen-year-old boy. He hadn't really grown at all since fifth year. Draco, on the other hand, was now 6'3". He would have been taller than his father, if Lucius had still been alive.

"Long day Potter?" he remarked, trying to act casual. Draco's voice snapped Harry out of his thoughts. He glanced up at Draco with scared eyes.

"I… Yeah, I guess," answered Harry, stumbling over his words.

"You want to take a break and get a breath of fresh air? It smells horrid in here. I am going to throw these robes out when I get back to the dorm." Harry chuckled, and followed Draco outside. They both stood in the cool breeze, a little astounded to be talking like normal seventh years, and not like the Harry and Draco of the past.

"Professor Tinder needs to take that stick out of her ass. Detention for watering the gardenias with _water_ instead of apple juice. We learned that like three years ago!" said Harry as he glanced back at the greenhouse. Neither of them had known water was the last thing you gave a Snap Gardenia. Draco laughed.

"I hate Herbology. Ever since Longbottom started doing better in it than me. And now we have to listen to this crotchety old woman who probably cannot tell the difference between a Purple-winged Porcupine and an Austrian Cactus. I cannot wait until NEWTS are over and we are out of here," said Draco.

"Mmmhmmm… done at Hogwarts" murmured Harry. Draco couldn't tell if he sounded happy or sad. Instead, he found himself staring at Harry's defined jaw, and then noticing how much larger his lower lip was than his top.

"Is there something on my face?" asked Harry without turning. Draco blushed. He had just been starring at Harry Potter's lips! He had to say something fast, an insult, something.

"Just wondering if you ever ate. You like a fourth year," said Draco, icily. Harry wrinkled his brow at the insult. They had been getting along for five whole minutes.

"I guess we should finish up," Harry turned to go in, and found himself very close to Draco's body. He looked up to Draco's face, confused. The tall frame towered over him. Harry tried to comprehend the glint in the Slytherin's eyes. Suddenly his lips were gently kissed. Startled he jerked his head back, and with wide eyes he looked at Draco. He didn't move, and Draco leaned in again. Harry closed his eyes and Draco took Harry's lower lip between his, gently he nibbled it and then became more aggressive, prying Harry's mouth open with his tongue and sliding it inside.

Harry had never had a kiss like this. With Ginny it had been different, more innocent, confusing, awkward. Draco was determined, less affectionate, less chaste, and more demanding. It sent a chill down his spine. And then, Harry's mind reminded him he was kissing Malfoy.

He stumbled backwards and tripped. He landed on the ground with a thud and pain shot up his elbow. There was what seemed an unending moment of silence, and then Draco offered his hand. Harry looked up at it and into Draco's face that was half hidden in shadow. The features blurred, and transformed. It became wider, and the eyes turned dark. The lips thinned, and Harry found himself looking up at Lucius Malfoy's face. The outstretched hand held a wand aimed menacingly at his heart.

He froze in horror. He knew the words _crucio_ were coming. He could almost feel the pain.

"Potter, you'd better get up, someone's coming."

Harry blinked and Draco was standing in front of him, looking aggravated and then glancing over his shoulder towards the main doors of the castle. Harry scrambled to his feet and sprinted towards Hogwarts.

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Harry's grades were abysmal. He hadn't slept well in weeks and kept finding himself staring at Draco when he wasn't having one of those blackouts that were becoming more and more frequent. He would be sitting in Transfiguration, and suddenly find himself getting up from Charms. A whole day of classes would have passed, and he couldn't remember any of it. He hadn't taken any notes, he had sometimes participated in class exercises, but often his mind was distracted, in two places at once, or no place at all. Hermione and Ron had tried to talk to him, but he'd resisted. Shrugging his shoulders and making excuses about homework, he'd rushed to the library.

In fact, he had just done that, and was now sitting near a section of the library that to his amusement, was filled with Lockhart's books. He stared at his transfiguration homework, not making any progress. He couldn't remember anything from the entire weeks of Transfiguration class. An essay on Dynamic Air Schisms and their first uses. What was an Air Schism? The door creaked, and he looked up to see Malfoy walking toward him. The color drained from his face, and he tried not to let his hands shake. Malfoy sat down opposite him.

"Harry, I want to talk about-" said Draco, but Harry cut him off.

"Since when am I Harry?" he asked bewildered. Draco flushed, but tried to continue nonchalantly.

"Whatever. Do you prefer 'The Golden Boy'?"

"No…I… don't call me that," replied Harry twirling his quill, not looking up at Draco.

"Alright, well, I thought we should discuss what happened… I did not mean to hurt you… so… I apologize." Draco said, looking out the window.

"It's okay," stuttered Harry amazed that Malfoy had just apologized to him about anything at all. Pigs were flying somewhere.

"What, exactly, is okay?" asked Draco raising his right eyebrow in a graceful arc. His eyes flashed in laughter, as Harry looked quizzically at him and then flushed.

"Umm… I don't know," Harry replied, and he didn't know. He had avoided thinking about that night in general. First of all, since when was he gay? That was a newsflash. Harry knew he was dense, but this level of self-ignorance seemed a little extreme. Maybe he wasn't necessarily gay. Maybe he just enjoyed kissing Ma- no that was definitely wrong. He had just been taken by surprise. This was MALFOY. If he couldn't even fathom getting back with Ginny, who had been supportive of the decision, but crushed all the same, and ignored him now, why would he even consider anything with Malfoy. Why was this even up for discussion? Why were they having this conversation?

"If you enjoyed it Potter, it is not a crime." Harry went even redder. He stammered a few words, and then remembered seeing Lucius in front of him and not Draco. What if he'd seen Bellatrix, or Voldemort? What if he'd attacked Draco? He could have more hallucinations. He was dangerous, and shouldn't be alone with anyone.

"I'm dangerous," said Harry.

"I'm not scared of you, Potty, just attracted" said Draco with a sly smile. Harry's mouth dropped open before he brightened the color of the Gryffindor scarf he was wearing. This conversation was getting out of hand, thought Harry. This was some sort of Slytherin joke. Rita Skeeter was hiding behind that massive Goblin dictionary and was going to take photographs when Draco jumped him. He could put a stop to this easy as pie, and not even have to face anything about his feelings, attractions or sexual confusion, by just going the safe route. He was definitely dangerous. He shouldn't be kissing Ginny, Draco or anyone for that matter.

"You should be, Malfoy. You're a smart guy. For Merlin's sake, you're Head Boy." Harry's voice was soft, but ferocious, startling Draco. "I'm not exactly stable," continued Harry. "You shouldn't come near me. No one should. You should go to dinner."

Draco stared at Harry with an unreadable expression.

"I already ate," he said as he got up swiftly, and left the library.

4


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, or anything of JK Rowling's.

Author's Note: This is my first fan fic, so I greatly appreciate reviews, if you readers have time. Also, thank you to my reviewers. You make me happy!

LAST OF THE BLOODTHIRSTY – you were my first reviewer ever! Very exciting - Thank you, thank you.

Besatt – I'm glad you love it.

Yaeko – updated soon for you!

3

Harry and Ron ran outside the great wooden doors and down the lawn towards their classmates. They had forgotten that Snape wanted to have a hands-on DADA class outside today.

"Twenty points each from Gryffindor for tardiness," snapped Snape as they arrived.

"Sorry sir" mumbled Harry, panting.

"As I was saying, today you will practice dueling. Do not use curses that are _too_ painful. Try to be creative at least once in your inane little lives. Be alert. Form pairs," commanded Snape.

Ron looked at Harry, but Harry shook his head. He wasn't going to duel his friends. What if he hurt them? He hadn't slept at all last night. He was in no state to control his temper, his power… his mind.

"Potter and Longbottom, of course you two would be the last ones left without partners. You will be paired together," said Snape.

"I don't think I will do this exercise, sir" said Harry quietly, not looking at Snape.

"Pardon? Potter, you think you can just excuse yourself from my class?" said Snape feigning cruel disbelief. "Oh of course, why you killed the Dark Lord, you don't need any training, you are better than all the rest of the students combined!"

"No, sir. I didn't mean it like that" said Harry quickly.

"Such arrogance, Potter! Unbelievable that you could be any more arrogant than last year, but I stand corrected."

Harry stood staring at a small patch of clover next to his left foot. He kept telling himself not to get upset. Not to react. Someone could get hurt. He needed stay calm. Calm. _Stay calm._

"Well then, if your peers are not enough of a challenge, let's do a demonstration. Shall we, Potter? That's what you want, to show off? And it is my job as Professor to cater to the Great Potter's every whim?" asked Snape, spitting out Harry's name. Harry looked at his professor in disbelief. Snape smirked and walked ten paces away from him and turned. "On three, Potter. One, Two, Three!" On 'three', Snape flashed his wand out of his pocket and cried _expellarimus_.

Harry felt the magic, the hatred and the magic emanating from Snape. Without moving a muscle, or touching his wand, which sat comfortably in his back pocket of his trousers, he thought _protego_ and the spell hit his shield.

Students gasped in disbelief. "Wandless magic…" "Of course… it _is_ Harry…" "I thought it was impossible…" murmured classmates. Snape looked aghast.

"A wonder" he said loudly. "Wandless magic is a rare gift, but not much of an obstacle!" Snape shouted another spell that Harry didn't know. He blocked it easily. He didn't need to be looking at Snape. He felt the spell coming towards him. He felt the vibrations it made in the magic that pervaded everything, that was always humming around him.

Snape strode towards him shooting spell after spell. Harry blocked them, but made no attempt to return fire. This was making Snape increasingly irate.

"Arrogance!" He shouted. "Fight like a Wizard!"

Hermione and Ron watched the scene, thinking similar thoughts. This was not good. Before this summer, Snape had been a greasy, ex-deatheater, potions professor who you'd never want to meet in a dark alley. But now, Ron and Hermione viewed Snape in a much more respectful light. They had seen Snape in action on the battlefield. He was more agile, effective, brutal and powerful than most of the Ministry aurors. It was Snape who had kept Voldemort at bay as Harry and Remus destroyed the sixth Horcux.

"Professor, maybe it would be best if-" pleaded Hermione, but Snape cut her off. He was enraged at being made a fool.

"I did not ask for your opinion Miss Granger!" Snape kept walking towards Harry. Harry was backing up, but with each curse flung at him, he felt Snape's anger grow, and his own vision started to blur. Snape's outline transformed into a dark figure. Visions of faceless deatheaters flashed before his eyes. Scenes including cruel torture, drowning, death. Harry turned to face Snape, but could no longer recognize the man. He just felt the hatred, and the strong magic being flung at him. _This man wanted to hurt him, harm him. _His back hit the castle wall. He was stuck. His mind raced, panic set in, and rage began to swell in his chest at being cornered, at being mocked. _He would not be laughed at! How dare this man attack him! He was all-powerful. He was the most powerful wizard in the world. All bowed before him or they were killed!_ Harry's eyes turned black and he said his first attacking spell.

"_Acastifreza_!"

A five-foot high line of fire, beginning at Harry's feet sprung to life and spread rapidly towards Snape. It was quickly blocked by the professor's magic.

"Finally Potter, we may begin!" said Snape in a frenzied voice.

Harry no longer knew it was Snape he was fighting. He blocked his enemy's spells, and began moving towards him, shooting curses at him. He hurtled volleys of them, five at a time. Snape began to retreat.

The sky, which had been clear and sunny, darkened with black clouds. The wind picked up, howling. With each step towards his enemy, with each spell cast, Harry felt his power increase. As he toyed with his enemy, and wore him out, he was simultaneously creating a vacuum. His attacker would no longer be able to escape the confines of the space he was enclosing him in, and no one could pass through the invisible walls. The man was unaware and would not realize his fate until it was too late.

Harry uprooted a cedar with a whisper and flung it towards Snape. The professor transfigured it into a leaf and pointed his wand to the ground in return. The ground became a red quicksand that climbed up Harry's legs. Harry smirked undid the curse with ease and then murmured a spell, thunder erupted, rain began and Harry transfigured the droplets into mirrors that reflected Snape's curses right back at him.

The darkness was silent and deep as the students watched and felt Harry's awesome power cover the grounds at Hogwarts like a thick smog, bending trees, raising enormous waves on the lake, and quaking the earth. Lightening struck in the sky and then came down upon Snape who only avoided it by inches. Hermione tried to raise her wand, but Harry's magic was everywhere and wouldn't let her. McGonagall had rushed outside followed by other professors, but was unable to pass Harry's hidden wall he had created by sheer raw magic. Snape had to battle Harry alone.

Hermione looked back at Harry. He was shouting off ten spells at once. His robes were whirling around him and his hair was on end. Hermione had never heard about any power so extreme. Harry was out of control. He was more powerful than anyone had ever imagined and he was going to murder Snape, while the whole school watched, powerless to stop him.

Harry aimed his fire spell at the man, for one final blow. _Incineration. Maybe even cremation_. _This pathetic man was scared. _Harry could feel it, and it made him want to laugh. He shouted _Acastifreza_! And the flames shot across the lawn towards the man, who barely deflected it. Instead, the Womping Willow caught fire. The flames became enormous and Harry paused a second, distracted.

Snape used this small moment to send a confusion curse at him, but it was easily stopped. Harry smiled. _This man does not know when his time is up!_ Harry approached the man and muttered an ancient spell. The man's wand exploded. Snape stood swaying, defenseless, and completely demoralized, with fearful eyes. Harry brought him to his knees with a whisper.

"You should kneel before greatness," Harry said. The man looked stunned. Speechless, robes torn, nose bleeding. _It is time to end this wretched life_. Harry whispered another command and invisible hands grabbed the man by the neck. Snape dangled in the air, feet flailing and grabbing at the hands that choked him. A distant voice pierced the night air.

"HARRY! Harry don't do it!"

_Who is Harry?_

"Harry!"

He dropped Snape to the ground and fell to his knees next to him. The dark magic surrounding Hogwarts disappeared.

"I'm Harry… what have I done?" he asked in a whisper. "What have I become?" He looked at Snape as the professor pushed himself off the ground. Harry attempted to whisper an apology, but his voice cracked, and he began to cry. To everyone's surprise, Snape took Harry in his arms, and tried to calm him.

"It's alright Potter. You're back. Nobody's hurt."

5


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, or anything of JK Rowling's.

Thank you for my reviews!

Ballius- I'm glad this meets your post-hbp standards!

BrokenProcelainDoll – Thank you for your complements!

Kmwsweetness – Weeeeeeeee, lucky me to have such nice reviewers

Yayoi-sama- I'm glad you like this Harry. So do I.

Besatt: Thank you again!

BLOODTHIRSTY: You are back again and so nice to me! Gracias

I might have updated sooner, but I did not have internet at the hotel I was at… crazy right?

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4

Harry woke up in the dark hospital room. He felt too weak to sit up, so he just let his eyes adjust to the dim light. He felt a little woozy, perhaps from the calming draught that Madame Pomfrey had given him yesterday after Snape had carried him up to the Hospital Wing. After he had…

After he had almost killed Snape. Harry shuddered at the thought. His stomach tightened as the images of the past afternoon raced through his mind. He had cast spells he had never learned. How was that possible? Voldemort had used Acastifrenza against him during their final encounter. How had he used it with such ease? How had he cast spells that Voldemort knew?

Harry reconsidered his connection with Voldemort. He had not thought much about his blackouts, nightmares, and blurring vision that occurred over the past month. For years he had had nightmares, and visions of things he had never seen before. In fact, unknown memories were sort of normal for Harry. He'd been able to access Voldemorts thoughts from miles away. He remembered the night he had woken knowing that Arthur Weasley had been attacked in a hallway in the Ministry of Magic. Yet, that was when Voldemort was alive. How could he be remembering the memories of a dead man… unless…

Harry's thoughts froze as he came to a conclusion his mind had been circumventing for weeks. _Unless Voldemort was inside of him_. Harry's body tensed, his mind went numb and he found himself hurling up his last meal onto the stone floor.

He sat up and looked around the room that was dimly lit from the moonlight. Shaking slightly, he decided to try occulemency to wade through his thoughts. He would start with a simple theme, to warm up his mind. He began to return to all the memories he had from the Hospital Wing: The time he had fallen off his broomstick first year during a quidditch match. The time he had snuck in with Ron to visit a petrified Hermione second year. The time he had snuck in and stolen antidotes and Harbleweed from the medicine supply cabinet third year. The time he had come in to treat his wounds after fighting the Hungarian Horntail. The time… Harry paused. He had never stolen Harbleweed. What was Harbleweed? He returned to the memory and scrutinized it.

The vision formed in the front of his mind, and he slowly replayed it. He snuck down the hallway, extinguishing the torches, until he reached the Hospital Wing and entered the main doors. He walked quickly towards the supply closet, and whispered _Alohomara_. The door remained locked. He tried a more complex spell – _Retici Alohomara_. The door clicked open and he found himself looking at the medical supply shelves. As he reached up, Harry examined his own hand as it clutched the Harbleweed. It had long white fingers, and a green serpent ring on its middle finger. It wasn't his hand. Harry struggled to keep the memory from blurring because of the shock of seeing that ring, the ring that he had seen on Voldemort's hand when he was clutching his wand and aiming it at Harry's heart.

Tom Riddle had snuck in to steal Harbleweed and an antidote called Tilitrune.

As if fearing the vision would slip out of his grasp, Harry's mind slowly placed the foreign memory into a corner of his mind. And drew himself out of his thoughts and back into the dark hospital wing. He smiled darkly.

Voldemort's memories were his. In fact, Harry could hardly tell them apart. He sat their stunned as he realized that he possessed the Dark Lord's vast knowledge, as well as his cruel memories, and perhaps even his emotions. Harry, the used to be Boy-Who-Lived, and the current Boy-Who-Killed-Voldemort, should now be more aptly labeled the Boy-Who-Absorbed-Voldemort, or perhaps worst, the Boy-Who-Became-Unstable-With-The-Combined-Power-Of-Potter-And-Voldemort.

Harry turned over on his side and clutched his pillow as tears ran down his cheeks. He had become the man he had spent his life trying to kill. Every day the control he had over his own mind had been slipping away. What if he woke up tomorrow and couldn't remember the Harry part of him. What if his Voldemort memories overpowered him? What if he became a dark wizard tomorrow? Harry hugged the pillow tighter, curled up in the fetal position, and fell into a restless sleep.

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Harry sat in Charms class thinking about anything but the inanimate object talking spells that Flitwik was explaining. He had woken up late, eaten breakfast with Madame Pomfrey, and then McGonagall had arrived with two mediwitches from St Mungo's, Healer Grunwright and Healer Efft. Harry figured out quickly that these healers were a wizard euphemism for a muggle shrink. _They think I'm crazy, a fair surmise considering my behavior_, thought Harry. _Actually, pretty accurate altogether. _

Grunwright, a curly-haired, tall woman with a kind face and brown affectionate doe eyes had led the meeting. She explained her past experience with patients who had suffered trauma. In fact, she had worked with the late Healer Miller, who was famous for his devotion and success on solving trauma situations with Ministry Aurors. She let Harry know how common his situation was. Although, Harry noticed, she never really explained what she thought his situation was. Healer Efft didn't say a word. Instead, the large man with a bristly black beard seemed more like a rugby player than a doctor. Maybe he was there to protect Healer Grunwright from Harry.

Harry answered the basic medical questions. He avoided talking about the revelation he'd had last night. It made him nauseous just thinking about it. How exactly was he supposed to let them know that 'Oh, by the way, I've self-diagnosed myself as having absorbed the most powerful wizard's mind, power and maybe soul. Nice to meet you.' He was going to talk to Hermione and Ron first. They would know what to do. At least, that was his excuse.

Neville elbowed Harry in the ribs. He looked up to see people practicing the charm they had just learned. Harry tried to do the same. He looked at Neville as he tapped the pillow in front of him and said "In_cantiar_". The pillow began to speak to Neville, explaining how he used to not have a spot, but some careless third year had spilled ink on him last week. Harry and Neville stared until Neville waved his wand again and said something and the pillow stop speaking. Harry tried five times, but couldn't make anything happen. Luckily the bell rang, and they filed out of the classroom towards the great hall for lunch.

As Harry made his way towards lunch, he noticed the wide berth students gave him in the hallway. Ron, Hermione and Neville stuck close to him, but the other students were darting out of their way. A group of first year girls ran into the bathroom when he glanced in their direction. Hermione updated Harry that three students had returned home that morning on their parents' orders. Rumors had circulated quickly within and without Hogwarts about his mental imbalance and frightening power.

As he sat down in the Great Hall, he recognized that those who had fought with Harry, former DA members and most Gryffindors were loyally trying to deny the rumors, and pretended to sit around the table acting normal. As friendly as the Gryffindors appeared to him, their eyes held traces of fear. They were scared of him. His chest tightened as he wondered if Neville, Ron or Hermione were afraid of him now. If they were scared of him without even knowing what he had discovered last night, how would they react to his epiphany? He glanced thoughtfully at the three of them as they ate.

Ron would deny it loyally. He wouldn't even really absorb what Harry was saying. To believe that Harry was possessed, unstable, would be disloyal. To Ron, Harry would always remain Harry, his bestfriend, and Ron would stand by him no matter what.

Harry looked next at Neville, who now was approaching six and half feet and ate more than Ron. He had changed into a thoughtful, capable young man, and he would listen to Harry with an avid ear, and believe anything Harry said. He would perhaps be scared of Harry, because, unlike Ron, he would understand Harry's predicament, his change. Despite his inevitable fear that Harry might turn into a dark wizard, he would stand by Harry.

Finally, Harry contemplated Hermione's reaction. She would listen attentively, interject her own comments, as she analyzed his reasoning, and would of course, pick up on what he was saying the fastest, if she didn't already have an idea herself. She would look at him with pitying eyes and pat him gently. She would assure him that they would figure it out how to deal with the problem. She would view Harry's situation in two ways. First, from the perspective of a pre-healer in a logical academic manner, she would conclude there had to be an antidote, and she would dedicate her energy to finding it. And then a little later, she would view it from a second perspective, when Harry was somewhere else, she would contemplate what he said, and her emotional response would be that of fear as well.

Harry's mouth was dry and his thoughts became jumbled. He didn't hear Neville ask him if he was going to eat his corn bread. Instead, Harry drew a shaky breath as he realized that his friends would fear him. Except for Ron perhaps, if… when everyone in Gryffindor, at Hogwarts, in the wizarding world found out about what was really wrong with Harry, they would fear him.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, or anything of JK Rowling's.

I decided to answer my reviewers at the end of each chapter.

5

Harry sat in the stands of the Quidditch Pitch after dinner. He was working up the nerve to talk to his friends and the isolated pitch seemed like a perfect spot for his private pep talk. He reminded himself that the sooner he did it, the better. His friends would be supportive. Still, Harry didn't budge. He would take a little time to relish the last few moments of quiet before his life was going to change again. Perhaps he should go to St. Mungo's on his own terms before Healer Grunwright, or McGonagall or the Wizengamot, whoever they were, forced him.

Harry had contemplated suicide over the past six weeks of school. More than once. But he had always resolved that it would be a sign of disrespect to Sirius, his parents, Dumbledore, Remus and everyone else who had died to protect him. But now, perhaps suicide would be the most effective way to respect the cause that the Order had fought for to begin with. Harry grinned at the irony.

"Something funny Potter?" Harry jumped and looked at Draco Malfoy as he walked gracefully down the aisle, picked his way through the seats, and sat down next to Harry. He placed his legs on the seat back in front of him before he continued. "I know it's ridiculous how badly Gryffindor lost to Ravenclaw last weekend, but grinning about it is a little odd. It's what I should be doing."

Harry stared at Draco with his mouth open, not registering what the boy was saying until the tall seventh year stopped. Draco stared at him with the classic Malfoy gaze of condescension. Harry stared back blankly. Malfoy was the last person he expected to talk to this evening. In fact, Harry hadn't given Draco a second thought since this whole episode with Snape. Now, while Malfoy sat in a languid pose, staring out at the darkening sky, Harry's gaze rested on the boys' lips and his thoughts flashed back to the night at the greenhouse. It seemed so distant, and yet his face grew hot thinking about it.

"Look, I know you've lost some marbles up there, but have you lost your voice too?" asked Draco smirking.

"I…can I help you with something?" asked Harry with a glare. He didn't feel like listening to Draco's insults, despite the nice view that always accompanied them.

"I see. You're far too busy pitying yourself to participate in idle conversation. Well, by all means, don't let me stand in your way. You know what is best for your health. I am sure no one else in all of Hogwarts has the faintest idea what you're going through. I mean, no one else has killed anyone or lost someone they care about deeply. No other single student has been tortured, manipulated, confused, afraid, or faced death besides you. You're just an anomaly, Potter," said Draco his tone full of sarcasm, and his eyes blazing as he stared at Harry.

Harry went pale.

"Fuck off. You've got a lot of nerve to-"

"To what? To speak to you? To give you my bloody opinion that you're acting like a first year the way you're moping about. It's unbelievable."

"Look, Malfoy, just because you turned against the deatheaters. Just because we fought for the same thing that day, doesn't give you the right to stick your nose in my business. Not only do you have no right, you've got no idea what you're talking about!" shouted Harry as he leapt out of his seat. "The majority of time we've ever spoken to each other is to fling curses or insults. How could delude yourself into thinking, you understand me. You've got no conceivable idea of what might be going on with me. So. Sod. Off!"

Draco appeared unimpressed with Harry's angry poise and remained in his seat, regarding the Gryffindor with cold, grey eyes before he replied in a neutral tone.

"It's quite typical of you to throw the deatheater card in my face. I think it's rather a trite and immature way to make me feel uncomfortable. That is what you are trying to do – insult me so we don't actually converse about the issue at hand. Well to answer your question. Actually, Potter, I think you're pretty easy to read. Just because your blockhead friend Ron can't, does not mean the average dolt cannot clearly see you're basically starving yourself, not sleeping, and going partially insane. You have spent the last six weeks trying to distance yourself from every type of contact, and with what result? You nearly killed a professor, a comrade in arms, and you think I'm impressed with your ability to handle yourself. Maybe you should stop wallowing in self-pity and start talking to someone about how fucking angry and confused and guilty you feel."

Harry looked murderously at Malfoy. He was trying very hard not to lobby a number of curses at the smug Slytherin who was still sitting nonchalantly in his seat. He closed his eyes to calm himself.

"How angry and confused and guilty I feel? Who are we talking about exactly? You think I'm pretty easy to read? You've got me all figured out. You think you can relate to me, and therefore understand me. That's fucking stupid. According to that logic, the fact that I hexed a few deatheaters, and killed the Dark Lord means I should understand what it feels like to kill my own father!" Harry shouted, and immediately regretted his choice of words, as he watched Draco's body tense, and a look of sorrow flickered past his eyes before they became neutral again. The silence was eerie as Harry eventually slumped back in his seat and stared at the quidditch pitch like Draco was doing.

"Sorry, I shouldn't have brought that up," said Harry after a long time.

"You would have made a good Slytherin," mused Draco and Harry turned to watch him thoughtfully. "Not many people in my house know how to throw me like that." He continued with a wry smile. Harry smiled back.

"Yeah, the sorting hat wanted to put me in Slytherin."

"What?"

"Yup. I just pleaded with him for a long time. The last thing I wanted was to be in the same house as you," ended Harry as he grinned at Draco. The Slytherin looked at Harry with wide eyes. Harry enjoyed the rarity of Draco looking flustered. The Slytherin was usually so talented at hiding his emotions. It intrigued Harry to see Draco in any state besides the usual smug, angry, mocking, condescending, bored or belligerent. Now he looked highly uncomfortable at having his guard so easily broken through twice in one conversation. Draco reigned in his emotions before he spoke.

"It's interesting to think about what would have happened if I hadn't approached you that evening before the sorting ceremony, and you had been placed in Slytherin. I wonder if we would have become friends, or enemies, both warring for our place in the house."

"Well, I think you would have won that war. I had no idea what I was doing first year, let alone be able to win some respect or social status in Slytherin. It's funny, I used to think about that too – what would have happened if I had been in Slytherin, but I never really looked at it like that. I just assumed I would become friends with everyone and maybe turn into a deatheater. I used to have nightmares about it, and wake up remembering I had become a servant of Voldemort and killed Hermione or someone else."

"Harry, that's insane. Whatever house you landed in, wouldn't have made a difference. The outcome would have been the same – you would have been opposed to Voldemort. It's just a matter of how many other students from Slytherin would have switched to join you."

Harry looked at Draco in wonder. He had never even considered that point of view. He had always thought that even with all the mistakes he'd made in the past, the stubbornness he had exhibited at eleven on his first night at Hogwarts had been one of the luckiest decisions of his life. He had always assumed that being placed in Salazar's own house would have meant an automatic victory for Voldemort. He would have become Voldemort's servant, not his rival. The idea that Harry's presence in Slytherin might have altered some of his classmates views, opinions, or changed the fate of some of their short lives was… Harry put his face in his hands.

"Oh my God" he said softly and he inhaled a shaky breath. He was trying desperately to calm himself. He was not going to cry in front of Malfoy. He fought to keep back the tears and shielded his face from Draco's searching eyes.

Draco was abashed. One minute they had been discussing hypotheticals, and now Harry's breathing was uneven and he was attempting to hide his face from Draco. What had Draco said to cause this sudden shift?

"Potter, are you alright?"

"I can't believe I never thought that… I mean, all those people, they might still be alive. Blaise and Goyle and Crabbe and," Harry said and then shuddered before he could list any more of the dead seventh year Slytherins. Draco's eyebrows shot up.

"You're being completely irrational, as only a _Gryffindor_ can be. How can you even begin to assume that those people would be alive if you had been sorted differently? What if you had succeeded in making someone change their mind about blood and its importance, about their loyalty to the Dark Lord. If anyone's parents had discovered this insubordination, it might very well have meant their death! You might have made new friends with some, and more powerful enemies of others. You would have been a lot more easily accessible to the Dark Lord for kidnapping or murder by a student if you were sleeping in the Slytherin dormitory. The only thing we can probably say for sure, is Slytherin would have won the Quidditch Cup for the last six years or at least until you were snuffed out."

Harry was staring at Draco as the blond stood, and made his way down to the balcony overlooking the pitch and turned to face Harry.

"Potter, your logic is completely flawed and self-centered, as usual. The universe does not revolve around you and your 'mistakes'. The war and everyone who died during it was not all directly a result of you. If you had ended up a stupid little squib and had never been invited to Hogwarts, the school would have gone on without you. In fact, Voldemort would have come to power a lot more quickly, and perhaps more people would have died. You are not to blame for everyone who died, Harry." Draco spoke the last sentence softly and he looked up at the black sky. "If I hadn't been so completely stupid, and had an ounce of backbone, Dumbledore might still be alive," whispered Draco.

Harry sat riveted to his seat. The last few words Draco uttered reverberated through his head. He suddenly was flooded with remorse for Draco. Standing in front of him, tall, handsome, with his long white hair and his flowing robes, was Draco Malfoy, the boy who had everything. But, this young man had lost a lot in the war. His mother had been murdered. And on the final day of battle, Draco had dueled his father and cast an unforgivable, the killing curse, on Lucius. The deaths of Crabbe, Goyle and Blaise, three close friends were also a considerable loss. The only people Harry could even remember Draco being close with that were still alive were Snape and Pansy Parkinson.

"Draco, you shouldn't feel responsible for-"

"Shut up, Potter, I don't need your pity, for fuck's sake. Nor do I need a little speech on why I shouldn't feel guilty. I am doing fine addressing my own concerns. The question is why don't you address your own. Why don't you listen to your words of wisdom for a change, and stop loathing yourself. If not for your own sake, for the sake of everyone else who has to live with you moping about."

Draco gave Harry a withering look and strode out of the stands. Gazing out at the dark field, Harry sat alone, and contemplated Draco's words.

Besatt- Thank you very much for your enthusiasm. You sound like me after I've had lots of coffee!

Queennarca - thanks!

gbheart - i updated soon, i hope you approve

Please review, I like constructive criticism as well. xxo


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